If William Shakespeare Did Violette1st Videos
Violette: The tiny wench tooketh off h'r coxcomb. Just hoist t up and taketh t hence. William: Mother what doest yond sentence cullionly? Violette: T means we might not but wend to lucy’s house and we shouldst taketh h'r special coxcomb and burneth t to the sky! William: Sounds liketh an excellent idea! let’s wend! Meanwhile at Lucy’s apartment... Lucy: To beest, 'r not to beest, yond is the questioneth: wheth'r 'tis nobl'r in the mind to suff'r the slings and arrows of outrageous f'rtune, or to taketh arms 'gainst a flote of troubles and by opposing endeth those folk. To die—to catch but a wink, nay m're; and by a catch but a wink to sayeth we endeth the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks yond flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation devoutly to beest wisheth'd. To kicketh the bucket, to catch but a wink; to catch but a wink, p'rchance to dream—ay, th're's the rubbeth: f'r in yond catch but a wink of death what dreams may cometh, at which hour we has't shuffl'd off this m'rtal coileth, wilt giveth us pause—th're's the respect yond maketh calamity of so longeth life. f'r who is't wouldst beareth the whips and sc'rns of timeth, th'oppress'r's wrong, the fustian sir's contumely, the pangs of dispriz'd loveth, the law's peize, the insolence of office, and the spurns yond patient m'rit of th'unw'rthy doth take, at which hour that gent himself might his quietus maketh with a bareth bodkin? who is't wouldst fardels beareth, to grunt and did sweat und'r a weary life, but yond the dread of something aft'r death, the undiscov're'd state, from whose bourn nay travell'r returns, puzzles the shall, and maketh us rath'r beareth those ills we has't than flyeth to oth'rs yond we knoweth not of? thus conscience doest maketh cowards of us all, and thus the native hue of resolution is sickli'd o''r with the whey-face did cast of bethought, and ent'rprises of most wondrous pitch and moment with this regard their currents turneth awry and loseth the nameth of action Zachary: Yond wast most wondrous! thee shouldst doth romeo and juliet next! William: Stand ho right th're! Violette: We art going to taketh thy special coxcomb and burneth t to the sky! Zachary: Oh nay! we did get to stand ho those folk bef're it’s too late! Lucy: I knoweth! Woo ov'rtime and ov'rdue (due) ain't nay catch but a wink, yond is fusty news (old news) been outside, yond's with the crew (yeah) madeth mine own night up on the moveth (on the moveth) in the m'rning, receiveth the news (check the news) the lady cometh home i hath heard the zoometh (skrrt, skrrt) i stepeth outside, i needeth mine own piece (piece) yeah, taketh one down to hitteth mine own peak (yeah, yeah, yeah) Yeah, hitteth the lights, yeah hitteth a right (lights) tooketh ev'rything, ain't nothing hath left (ain't hath left) counteth thy blessings, counteth thy steps (straight up) at thy throat liketh we yond strep t's way too bitter cold und'r this flesh (yeah) all week we ball but we mesh not (ball) all week we drinketh, leaveth us a mess (drinking) down on mine own drugs, t is fusty news (yeah) William: Nice tryeth! we’ve already did get thy coxcomb! anon it’s timeth f'r t to wend! Zachary: Thee leaveth us nay choice! singeth! Link not me hitteth not me at which hour thee heareth this and bid me thy fav'rite song bid not me how thee kneweth t wouldst beest liketh this all 'long i knoweth the sooth is thee wonneth't loveth me until i'm gone and coequal then the thing yond cometh aft'r is movin' on i can't coequal capture the humour i hadst at first meetin' all mine own h'roes liketh seein' how charm w'rks the people i behold up to art goin' from lacking valor to w'rse their actions out of charact'r coequal at which hour those gents rehearse w'rkin' in the landeth of the free, the home of the brave i gotta bringeth mine own broth'rs 'r else i feeleth out of lodging breakin' speedeth rec'rds on roads yond these niggas pav'd and those gents liketh not yond, t's writ all on those gents visage i knoweth not how i'ma maketh t out of h're crisp can't coequal keepeth track of who is't plays f'r the oth'r team iconic duos rip and did split at the seams good-heart'd people art takin' t to extremes leavin' me in limbo to questioneth what i believeth leavin' me to asketh what's their motive in makin' peace leavin' me to not trusteth anybody i meeteth leavin' me to asketh, is th're anybody liketh me? Missin' out on mine own years th're's times at which hour i wisheth i wast wh're i wast backeth at which hour i hath used to wisheth i wast h're missin' out on mine own days scrollin' through life and fishin' f'r praise opinions from total strang'rs taketh me out of mine own ways i'm tryna seeth who is't's th're on the oth'r endeth of the shadeth most times t's just somebody yond's und'rag'd yond's belike just high-lone and afraid and lashin' out so yond someone else can feeleth those gents teen i at each moment heareth people complaineth about the lodging yond those gents liveth yond all the people h're art fake and those gents did get nothin' to giveth 'cause those gents been starin' at somebody else's v'rsion of the horror yond maketh anoth'r city seemeth m're excitin' than t is i knoweth a wench whose one goal wast to visiteth rome then the lady finally did get to rome and all the lady didst wast posteth pictures f'r people at home 'cause all yond matt'r'd wast impressin' ev'rybody the lady's known i knoweth anoth'r wench yond's cryin' out f'r holp but h'r latest caption is "leave me high-lone" i knoweth a wench happily did marry 'til the lady puts down h'r phoneth i knoweth a wench yond saves pictures from places the lady's flown to posteth lat'r and maketh t behold liketh the lady still on the wend behold at the way we liveth i wasn't hidin' mine own peat from the w'rld i wast hidin' the w'rld from mine own peat from exsufflicate souls who is't just waketh up and behold to debate until thee starin' at thy seed, thee can nev'r relateth breakin' news in mine own life, i runneth not to the blogs the only ones i wanna bid art the ones i can calleth those gents at each moment asketh, "why alloweth the st'ry runneth if 't be true t's false?" thee knoweth a wise sir once hath said nothin' at all i'm exhaust'd and drained, i can't coequal pretendeth all these people takin' miles at which hour thee giveth 'em an inch all these followeth'rs but who is't gon' followeth me to the endeth? i guesseth i'll maketh t to the endeth and i'ma findeth out then Violette: Oh nay! we art gonna bloweth up because of how pow'rful drake’s “emotionless” wast! William: Goodbye, mother! t wast nice knowing thee! Those gents explodeth and kicketh the bucket Lucy: And so this st'ry concludes with mine own special coxcomb being spar'd and the criminal carrying coals. We desire this st'ry tells thee not to mess with oth'r people 'r thee shall receiveth did punish. Anon wend, buryeth these po'r colours of human beings. Category:Fanfic Category:Parody